So I'm really excited because I've been doing a lot of writing lately and I think the rest of the story is going to be really good. I'm tingling to write it and post it, actually. :)

And please, if you are reading this, send me a PM or write me a review so I can get all of your opinions/feedback/suggestions! It would really mean a whole lot to me :)

Thanks for reading!

-John-

John sat in the darkened hospital room with the sleeping Skylar resting against his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her hair, thinking about what he had learned about her so far.

Her minor concussion may not have been so minor after all if it had caused enough damage to wipe her memories. This was troublesome on many levels. She would not be able to help them much on the case of her capture and torture, seeing as the information she had been presumably been captured and tortured for originally was beyond her reach.

But there was more to worry about than just the sake of the case. Her entire life, her childhood and all of her memories, gone. She didn't even know her own name for goodness' sake.

John sighed, holding the sleeping Skylar a little closer. She mumbled incoherently in her sleep, and curled in closer to John.

Seeing her cry had almost been too much to bear, and John's heart had twisted uncomfortably upon seeing her distress. He wanted desperately to go after the man that had caused her so much physical and emotional pain to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, and then more.

Holding her in his arms now, he felt the unrepressible need to protect her. He needed to know that she would always be okay, He had meant what he said earlier about not letting any harm come to her. He wanted to stay with her as long as it took to know that she was going to be okay.

She shuddered silently in her sleep, probably suffering from a nightmare. John thought back to his own nightmare he had been having before Skylar woke him.

He had been dreaming of the fall. That awful day when Sherlock had leapt from the roof of St. Bart's hospital, leaving John alone once again.

The images of the blood on the pavement had never left John, always coming back to haunt him in his sleep. For three years John was alone. He tried to tell himself that he had been through all this before when he was in the war in Afghanistan, that it really shouldn't bother him that much. He had seen his friends die right before his eyes before, and he had taught himself to go numb so that he would not be affected.

Why this would not work with the loss of Sherlock John couldn't understand. Of all his nightmares of the war that plagued him before he met Sherlock when he would lose sleep, the nightmares filled with images of his friend splayed out on the ground surrounded by a grisly pool of blood were the worst. And though it had been a year since Sherlock's return, John still had the nightmares.

John had been thrown into shock when he came home to 221B to find the detective standing in the kitchen wrapped up in his long coat and scarf just as he always had worn. Sherlock had tried to explain himself, but John punched him across the mouth before he could get very far. Sherlock had gripped his wrists so that John couldn't take another swing, but at this point John had dissolved into tears. Sherlock held him awkwardly as he cried, and after John broke away he patched up Sherlock's bloodied face as the detective told John what had happened in the past three years. John listened for hours as the detective went on about how he had pursued the members of Moriarty's web. After that night Sherlock had moved back in to 221B and it was as if the detective had never left.

The same couldn't be said for John. Even after a year he was still suffering. Though his limp was gone once again, it having come back after Sherlock's death, John was still crippled by these nightmares.

He heard his phone buzz from the pocket of his jacket draped across the chair he had been sitting in before. Gently extricating himself from Skylar's arms he sat up on the edge of the bed, reaching for his coat. Upon fishing his phone out of the pocket he saw that it was a text from Sherlock.

I'm at the hospital. I'll be with you in a moment. -SH

John sighed and got up to stand in the hallway to wait for Sherlock. Sure enough, the detective showed up a moment later, walking swiftly up to John.

"Have you got anything?" the detective asked, removing his gloves as he did and placing them in his coat pockets.

"Yeah but not much. She's asleep now Sherlock, leave her be." the detective had been moving as if to go into the room to interrogate Skylar himself, seeing as John had not got an adequate amount of information from her. John pressed a hand to the detectives chest, pushing him lightly away from the door.

"Well what have you got?" the detective huffed, slightly affronted.

"Her name's Skylar, but that's all she knows. She suffered a minor concussion, but it was enough to wipe her memories. She can't remember anything before waking up strapped to that chair. She's suffering from a severe case of amnesia, and she had to learn her own name from Amy Nash." he sighed.

Sherlock lowered his eyebrows in concentration. "That's all she knows? No no no, that isn't all she knows, she just can't remember what she really knows. It's there, in her mind, she just doesn't have access to it. It's important information, the kind she suffered through weeks of torture to conceal." Sherlock was pacing back and forth in front of John, gesturing wildly as he went on.

"Weeks?" John swallowed, shocked by the revelation.

"Yes, John, you would just have to look at those cuts on her arm." he muttered under his breath to John, not looking up from his pacing.

"Of course..." once again John was blown away at how incredibly observant his flatmate was. It shouldn't still be surprising to him, having known the detective for several years now, but it in fact never ceased to amaze the army doctor.

Sherlock stopped pacing suddenly, standing directly in front of John. "I need to talk to Amy Nash."

"Sherlock it's the middle of the night. Can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

He scowled heavily at John before resuming his pacing. "I need to speak with her now, I need information now."

John heaved a sigh, leaning against the wall tiredly. Looking down at his watch he saw that it was now close to 2AM.

"Sherlock..." he almost moaned, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes and letting out a yawn.

"Hmm." he kept pacing.

"Don't you think you should-"

"I need to go to Scotland Yard."

"-get some sleep?"

Both men looked at each other. The detective ignored John's question, and instead turned and began to walk down the hall. "I'm going to talk to Lestrade and see if they've got anything yet." he called over his shoulder as he strode down the long hospital corridor.

The doctor watched him go for a moment before turning to enter Skylar's room, where he sat down on the uncomfortable chair and promptly closed his eyes and fell asleep.